under my eyes. My hair had to be a ratty mess. And a shirt that proclaimed “Drink ‘til You Want Me” covered my body.
After we’d both finished our drinks the night before, we laughed and talked and cuddled in his gloriously comfortable bed much later than we should have. Dax’s hands kept tempting me, kept moving to places they really shouldn’t given our pact to avoid sex on the first date. But his lips on my neck almost talked me right out of that pact.
We’d eventually fallen asleep, and in my semi-wine-drunk state, I’d forgotten to set an alarm.
The incessant buzzing of my cell phone woke me up. I checked the clock on Dax’s night table.
I only had fifteen minutes to get to my Statistics midterm exam.
“Fuck!” I yelled again, this time jumping out of bed and grabbing my dress off of the floor. I pulled Dax’s shirt off and threw the dress on. I ran to my purse and checked my phone. I felt Dax’s eyes on me the entire time. Clearly he didn’t notice my urgency.
I had a missed call and a text, both from Scott. Did you see the email Dr. Harris sent last night? Bring your study guide to the exam for extra credit. See you soon.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
There was no way I would have to have time to stop by my apartment to get my study guide and get to the test on time.
Fuck.
“Everything okay?” Dax stretched sleepily. Thank God he’d worn a shirt (proclaiming he was “God’s Gift to Women”) and shorts to bed, because if I had to watch his body stretch, those muscles pulsing, I was pretty sure I would’ve missed my test.
I dug through my purse for my car keys.
“No. I have a test in fifteen minutes.”
“Is it in your purse?” he asked.
I glared up at him. “I’m looking for my car keys.” I kept finding my apartment key, but not my car keys.
He stood up and stretched lazily again. I couldn’t help stealing a look of his abdomen peeking out from under his t-shirt when his arms went up over his head. It was just a preview, but God, those muscles. He was just this ridiculously perfect specimen of the male gender.
“I picked you up, sweets.”
I shot him a nasty look. He had this teasing grin on his face, and half of me wanted to slap him while the other half of me wanted to hop back into bed and just say, “Fuck the test.”
He held up both hands in mock surrender at my look. “I’ll take you. Give me thirty seconds.”
He disappeared out his door. I paced his bedroom, not exactly sure what to do while I watched the clock inch closer to test time.
True to his word, he reappeared in less than thirty seconds, and he grabbed his car keys off of his dresser. “Ready?”
I nodded and followed him down to his car. I really had to pee, but I didn’t have time.
He drove fast—probably faster than I would have, but I appreciated his effort to get me to my test on time.
“What class is your test in?” he asked, making conversation while I stared at the clock in his dashboard.
I checked the little mirror in the visor. I definitely had mascara in places it shouldn’t have been. I did my best to touch up my make-up while Dax drove, and then I popped in a piece of gum.
“Advanced Statistics in Psychology.”
“Are you ready for it?”
“Don’t have much choice at this point. I have a friend who tutored me, and he thinks I’m ready.”
I swore I saw his eyes narrow when I identified my friend as a “he,” but it was possible I saw what I wanted to see.
“I have a statistics question for you. Think of it as a little extra test prep.”
“Go for it.” I appreciated his effort at calming me down, because I was pretty much a frazzled mess.
“What are the odds you’re free tonight around midnight?”
I giggled. “Well, based on the samplings taken last night, I’d conclude there is a one-to-one chance I’m free.” Midnight sounded late to me, but I’d take a nap. I’d drink extra coffee. I’d have an energy drink.
Anything to spend more time with the rock
After we’d both finished our drinks the night before, we laughed and talked and cuddled in his gloriously comfortable bed much later than we should have. Dax’s hands kept tempting me, kept moving to places they really shouldn’t given our pact to avoid sex on the first date. But his lips on my neck almost talked me right out of that pact.
We’d eventually fallen asleep, and in my semi-wine-drunk state, I’d forgotten to set an alarm.
The incessant buzzing of my cell phone woke me up. I checked the clock on Dax’s night table.
I only had fifteen minutes to get to my Statistics midterm exam.
“Fuck!” I yelled again, this time jumping out of bed and grabbing my dress off of the floor. I pulled Dax’s shirt off and threw the dress on. I ran to my purse and checked my phone. I felt Dax’s eyes on me the entire time. Clearly he didn’t notice my urgency.
I had a missed call and a text, both from Scott. Did you see the email Dr. Harris sent last night? Bring your study guide to the exam for extra credit. See you soon.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
There was no way I would have to have time to stop by my apartment to get my study guide and get to the test on time.
Fuck.
“Everything okay?” Dax stretched sleepily. Thank God he’d worn a shirt (proclaiming he was “God’s Gift to Women”) and shorts to bed, because if I had to watch his body stretch, those muscles pulsing, I was pretty sure I would’ve missed my test.
I dug through my purse for my car keys.
“No. I have a test in fifteen minutes.”
“Is it in your purse?” he asked.
I glared up at him. “I’m looking for my car keys.” I kept finding my apartment key, but not my car keys.
He stood up and stretched lazily again. I couldn’t help stealing a look of his abdomen peeking out from under his t-shirt when his arms went up over his head. It was just a preview, but God, those muscles. He was just this ridiculously perfect specimen of the male gender.
“I picked you up, sweets.”
I shot him a nasty look. He had this teasing grin on his face, and half of me wanted to slap him while the other half of me wanted to hop back into bed and just say, “Fuck the test.”
He held up both hands in mock surrender at my look. “I’ll take you. Give me thirty seconds.”
He disappeared out his door. I paced his bedroom, not exactly sure what to do while I watched the clock inch closer to test time.
True to his word, he reappeared in less than thirty seconds, and he grabbed his car keys off of his dresser. “Ready?”
I nodded and followed him down to his car. I really had to pee, but I didn’t have time.
He drove fast—probably faster than I would have, but I appreciated his effort to get me to my test on time.
“What class is your test in?” he asked, making conversation while I stared at the clock in his dashboard.
I checked the little mirror in the visor. I definitely had mascara in places it shouldn’t have been. I did my best to touch up my make-up while Dax drove, and then I popped in a piece of gum.
“Advanced Statistics in Psychology.”
“Are you ready for it?”
“Don’t have much choice at this point. I have a friend who tutored me, and he thinks I’m ready.”
I swore I saw his eyes narrow when I identified my friend as a “he,” but it was possible I saw what I wanted to see.
“I have a statistics question for you. Think of it as a little extra test prep.”
“Go for it.” I appreciated his effort at calming me down, because I was pretty much a frazzled mess.
“What are the odds you’re free tonight around midnight?”
I giggled. “Well, based on the samplings taken last night, I’d conclude there is a one-to-one chance I’m free.” Midnight sounded late to me, but I’d take a nap. I’d drink extra coffee. I’d have an energy drink.
Anything to spend more time with the rock
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